


heart on your sleeve

by adamantine



Category: Free!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 20:32:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4801313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamantine/pseuds/adamantine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rin finally thinks of an anniversary present for Haru. A ridiculous anniversary present (it's for Haru after all).</p>
            </blockquote>





	heart on your sleeve

**Author's Note:**

> Finally something not FFF related... except this is based on a throwaway line from my last FFF thing.... hahaha.....

Rin was sitting at the kitchen table when the idea struck him. He almost dropped his coffee in shock.

How would he even make it? Could he hire someone? Did this mean having to explain it to another person?

The coffee mug clinked against the table as he set it down. He needed to think of something else, _immediately_. The idea was too awful, too terrible, too embarrassing to explain to another human being.

Unfortunately, it was also brilliant.

For weeks he had been racking his brains, trying but failing to figure out the perfect anniversary present for Haru. Flowers? Not enough. A nice dinner? Boring. Jewelry? Haru _did_ like bracelets but… he wanted to find a gift that screamed _Haru_ , not “generic boyfriend.”

He buried his face in his hands and groaned.

This idea screamed Haru all right.

He wondered if Haru had hypnotized him and then planted the suggestion in his mind. The alternative — that Rin came up with the idea on his own — was worrisome. Rin was supposed to be the romantic one, not the weird one. Maybe it was a little romantic? He cringed. Yeah, no. It was 100% weird.

A laugh of defeat escaped him. It didn’t matter; he was already formulating a plan.

 

 

“Rin, I’m going to take a bath.”

“Mmm… okay.” He waved Haru off, keeping his eye on the TV.

He turned the volume down. The faint sound of running water filled the room. He waited for it to stop, knowing once Haru settled into his bath it would take near apocalyptic conditions to get him out of it.

At the sound of silence, Rin grabbed his cell phone and crept out of their apartment to call Makoto.

A neighbor waved at him when he opened the door. He tried his best to look nonchalant, and not like someone sneaking out of their apartment to plot behind their boyfriend’s back. The curious look on her face told him he had oversold it. _Good job, Rin._

When she was gone he sighed and leaned against the door, waiting for Makoto to pick up.

“Rin?”

“Hey. How are you?”

“I’m fine. And you?”

They chatted for a while. Rin talked about training, sparing Makoto details he (probably) already knew from Haru. Makoto talked about his students; the swimming club at his new middle school was filled with promising talent. One of the kids seemed as enamored by water as Haru. Albeit, he couldn’t swim “very well” just yet (Rin thought that description was generous; Makoto had already saved the kid from drowning several times).

Finally, Rin broached the subject he had been avoiding.

“You’re hanging out with Haru on Saturday, right?”

“That’s right.”

“I was wondering… could you, maybe keep him out all afternoon?”

“Eh? Uh, sure.”

“Thank you. It means a lot.” Rin lowered his voice. “I… I need the time to buy Haru an anniversary present.”

“Oh. Oh! Of course. I’ll keep him busy, don’t worry.”

Makoto was chuckling. Rin felt a strange sense of sympathy for Haru, suddenly understanding his occasional mortification around Makoto. That “Oh, I see” laugh felt like a parent realizing you had a crush on someone, despite how hard you were trying to hide it (a feeling Rin had no firsthand knowledge of). _What had given him away._ Why did he feel like Makoto knew exactly how embarrassing his present was.

He ended the conversation as quickly as he could: it was only a matter of time before he said something incriminating. He still needed to look Makoto in the face after this.

He tried to compose himself before going back inside. What were the odds Haru would tell him about the present? Astronomical, Rin guessed. Shit.

 

 

“Have fun with Makoto!” Oh god, he sounded like he was sending Haru off on a play date. _Be cool, Rin._ He fidgeted with his belt loop, avoiding Haru’s eyes.

“See you later,” said Haru.

Rin gave him a kiss on the side of his head before closing the door.

When Makoto texted him to tell him he’d met up with Haru, Rin grabbed his stuff and made his way to the train station.

Black Cat Designs, the tailor Rin had commissioned to make Haru’s present, was a small, cramped shop on a side street few people used. There weren’t many garments on display. Instead, it was filled with the materials needed to make clothes: buttons, zippers, thread — but most of all, fabric. Shelves and shelves of fabric lined the walls, of every color and texture imaginable. Rin’s eyes were drawn to a roll of blue fabric covered in sakura petals.

“Welcome to our humble shop! Are you perchance Matsuoka-san?” A kindly looking woman greeted him. The apron she wore was covered in a dizzying array of pockets: it looked like she was carrying a miniature version of the store with her; each pocket was bursting with tools or materials.

“Ah, yes. I’m Matsuoka Rin. I’m here to pick up my order.” Rin had searched online for hours before settling on Black Cat Designs; they had experience in making outlandish, fun outfits — a good match for what he needed. He sent them Haru’s measurements and images of what he had in mind; they struck up a correspondence, making sure Rin was with them every step of the way. Today he would get to see the final product.

“Of course. If you would follow me.”

She lead him to a table in the back of the shop and pulled out a bundle of clothes from a drawer nearby.

“Here. Would you like to take a look at your items to make sure everything is in order?”

Rin stared at the yellow clothes in front of him, strangely proud even though he wasn’t the one who made them.

It was an Iwatobi-chan pajama set, a pair for “summer” and “winter.” The shorts and pants had the same repeating pattern of Iwatobi-chan in various poses, most of them swimming related. A t-shirt featured Iwatobi-chan serenely floating in a pool; a button-up shirt had him on a pocket, getting ready to jump off a diving board.

Rin reached for the last item. He let out a small gasp: it was the Iwatobi-chan robe, the cherry on top of his commission. The sleeves were long and made to look like wings while the hood became Iwatobi-chan’s head.

It was terrifying.

He picked it up, marveling at the craftsmanship that went into it, how soft the material was.

“It’s perfect. All of it.”

She beamed. “Good. I’m glad. It was fun to make!”

 

 

They ordered takeout for their anniversary, a real luxury meal for two professional athletes. Rin had kimchi while Haru stubbornly attempted to eat the entire seafood menu. He didn’t come close (it would have needed Nagisa's stomach).

“I can finish them!”

Haru shooed Rin’s hands away from a pile of shrimp. When that didn’t work, he used his chopsticks to poke Rin.

“That’s unhygienic. And rude.”

“Stop trying to steal my food!”

“How about we exchange gifts first and if you’re still hungry I won’t stop you from eating yourself to death.”

Haru shot him a death glare, but finally relented. He helped Rin clear the table and pack up the leftovers. When they were done, they sat on the couch. Two carefully wrapped gifts laid on the coffee table in front of them.

“You go first,” said Haru.

He handed his gift to Rin. The wrapping paper was a bright, metallic red; Rin could see his reflection on it. It crinkled as he unwrapped it.

The gift was a thick, hardbound book. The cover was plain, no words were written on it.

Rin’s heart skipped a beat when he realized what it was. A scrapbook. Haru had made him a scrapbook: a beautiful, lovingly arranged scrapbook filled with photographs and artwork of the two of them, of Rin.

There was so much red.

A page featuring sketches of Rin as a child made something catch in his throat. There was an intimacy to it that made his heart race. He could feel the care Haru put into it. It made him remember being that age: how ecstatic he was when his mother gave in to his plea to transfer to Iwatobi Elementary, the joy he felt when he swam with Haru, Makoto, and Nagisa in that relay.

He kept going, silent, drinking in each page. There were photographs of them in high school; he guessed Haru had asked their friends for them. They looked so _young._ It wasn’t even that long ago… was it?

He turned the page and froze.

Haru had drawn the current him. It was the reddest page so far. He had on an expression he didn’t recognize on himself. It was a look he would sometimes catch on Haru: when he woke up to find Haru had been watching him sleep, before their eyes fluttered closed and their lips met, when they showed each other new sights—

Haru interrupted his thoughts.

“I wasn’t sure what to get you. I’m sorry. I’ll buy something else, I’ll—“

Rin pulled his eyes away from the page of red to stare at Haru. He didn’t understand what Haru was babbling about, couldn’t fathom why he looked so lost.

“It’s beautiful.” He cleared his throat. “It’s so beautiful Haru.” He wanted to say more but couldn’t; he felt overwhelmed by how much he loved Haru — by how much Haru loved him.

“Don’t cry then.”

“I’m not crying,” he lied.

Haru scooted closer to him and brought his face to Rin’s. Rin closed his eyes, tense. Haru kissed the corners of them, and then… of course.

“Gross! Don’t lick my tears!” It came out more like a whine, lacking any punch.

“Salty.”

“You’re so weird.” His heart steadied.

“You don’t have to look at it all now.”

“But I want to.”

“It’s okay.” He put his hand over Rin’s.

Rin let him have the book back. He set it down on the coffee table and picked up a long box wrapped in an image of the ocean. Rin had been thrilled when he had found that wrapping paper.

A wave of anxiety hit him. Haru’s present had been so personal. The emotions that went into it, the way seeing it made Rin feel — Rin’s present felt inadequate, stupid. He no longer felt embarrassed by its silliness; instead his stomach twisted up in disappointment for not giving Haru something more meaningful.

“My present is lame, it’s okay if you don’t like it. It seemed like a good idea, but it’s more of gag gift, I shouldn’t have got it for an anniversary present. I can return it. Or donate it. Whatever. You don’t—” His words died on his throat.

Haru’s mouth was open, his eyes wide. He seemed to be frozen in shock, but Rin recognized the way his eyes sparkled: it was the same sparkle they had when Haru saw a body of water. Except times a million.

Haru let out a series of high pitched squeaks; Rin was sure they meant something in dolphin.

“Rin!” He was still staring at the pajama set in his lap.

“There’s a robe!” His hands were shaking.

“Whoa there, they’re just pajamas.”

Haru looked at him, his eyes still wide and sparkling.

“Rin, put these on.”

In retrospect, he should have seen this coming.

 

 

“Don’t laugh.”

“Why would I laugh?”

They were in their bedroom, Haru’s back turned to him. Rin had made him turn around while they changed.

Haru wore the pants and button up shirt part of the set. They fit him perfectly. Since Rin naively didn’t anticipate being forced into the other half of the set, he couldn’t say the same for himself: the shorts and t-shirt were a little off — not by much, but enough to make him feel that much more awkward.

“Okay, you can turn around,” Rin said.

The Iwatobi-chan robe swirled dramatically around Haru as he turned. He was enjoying himself too much.

“Rin, you look amazing!” His eyes were sparkling again.

“They’re just pajamas,” he mumbled.

Haru took a step closer to him to grab his arms.

“They really suit you!” Haru’s demeanor was earnest; Rin felt his embarrassment start to ebb. The lack of shame Haru had about his hobbies and interests made it easy for Rin to go along with him, to get caught up in his pace.

“What is it?” Haru tilted his head.

“What is what?”

“You’re smiling strangely.”

“I was thinking about how weird you are” — Haru opened his mouth to protest the description — “and how I like that about you.” Rin placed his hands on Haru’s shoulders and pulled him closer.

“Do you now?”

“Yeah.”

He gave Haru a quick, chaste kiss. Haru leaned forward and returned the kiss: once, twice, three times… he kept going, each kiss lasting a little longer. Rin matched him eagerly, his body growing warm as he clung to Haru.

He felt Haru’s hands on him. First holding on to his waist; then one on his back, the other moving up and down his side.

It felt nice, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more, he wanted so much more.

He slipped his tongue into Haru’s mouth, tugged at Haru’s hair. Haru shoved a hand under his shirt; traced his abs. His skin burned where Haru touched him. He needed, he needed…

He tugged at Haru’s robe, wanting it off, annoyed that it kept him from touching him. Haru broke away from their kiss, responding to Rin’s silent demand. Rin couldn’t keep a whine from escaping his throat at the loss of contact. He was grateful Haru didn’t comment on it.

“Bed,” Haru grunted after he shrugged off his robe. His pupils were blown and his hair a mess from Rin's hands.

“Mmm.”

Rin followed him onto the bed, letting himself be pulled into straddling Haru. He leaned down and kissed Haru more, sucked on his lips. He moved frantically, burying his hands back in Haru’s hair.

Haru reached under his shirt: one hand holding him steady, while the other moved higher. Rin’s movements slowed in anticipation. Haru’s nails traced around one of his nipples before giving it a light pinch. Rin moaned.

He pulled away; he needed their shirts to be off, needed to feel Haru’s warm skin against his own. His movements were clumsy, his shirt momentarily getting stuck around his head. Perhaps Iwatobi-chan was displeased at being tossed aside so soon.

Haru was quicker. Before Rin had even finished he felt Haru’s nails run down his back, making him shiver.

Rin looked down. Haru was beautiful. His athletic body, crafted from years of swimming. His lips, swollen from kissing. His eyes, full of lust. All of it added to his beauty. Rin marveled at how he was free to look at him, free to touch him.

He kissed Haru’s lips gently before moving away, leaving a trail of kisses along his neck before reaching the skin near his earlobe — one of Haru’s weak points. He lingered there, sucking on the skin and provoking a small gasp from Haru. He took pleasure in the way Haru tensed against him, felt himself grow aroused as Haru’s nails dug into his back.

“Rin!”

Haru buckled up against him; he was hard. Rin pulled away to moan.

Sensing an opportunity, Haru adjusted himself, letting his leg rub against Rin’s dick in the process. Rin closed his eyes, basking in the sensation. When he opened them he saw Haru looking mightily pleased with himself — as though moments ago he hadn’t been the one losing it. That wouldn’t do. Rin reached for Haru’s pants. He traced the outline of Haru’s dick before rubbing against it roughly, making Haru hiss. He smirked, triumphant.

“Pants off,” Haru commanded, “Iwatobi-chan will get dirty.”

Rin snorted, not about to argue as he was more than happy to comply. His brain was still catching up to the fact that he had copped a feel over a collage of Iwatobi-chans (their eyes were so judgmental).

This time he was faster. Haru struggled to kick off the bright yellow pants. Rin did it for him, tossing them on the floor when he was done. _So long Iwatobi-chan._ The tropical fish covering Haru’s underwear were much less intimidating.

“I’m really happy, Rin.” Haru sat up. “Thank you.”

Rin guessed he wasn’t being thanked for removing Haru’s pants.

“Yeah.”

He wanted to say more, wanted to let Haru know what the scrapbook meant to him, how it made him feel. He wanted to let Haru know he’d probably have sex with him even if he wore a damn Iwatobi-chan mascot suit — hell, he’d wear one if that’s what Haru wanted. That’s how attracted he was to Haru, how much his ability to feel embarrassment took a nosedive around him. But he didn’t say any of it; the feel of Haru's hands around his waist, gently guiding him to lie down on the bed, distracted him.

He rested his head against a pillow, his hair fanning around him, and looked up to see Haru watching him.

Something in him stirred. He was Haru’s entire world for that moment. He had all of his focus, all of his attention. Rin felt powerful and vulnerable at the same time. This was what he had wanted, without knowing it, since he was eleven-years-old. What he would always want.

Haru kissed him. It was a slow, careful kiss. When Rin tried to urge him on for more, he backed away and kissed Rin’s neck instead, his collar bone, his chest… moving down slowly before reaching Rin’s nipples. He began to suck on one; Rin moved a hand to stroke his back in appreciation. It had made him self-conscious to find out how much he enjoyed Haru playing with his nipples, but as he discovered Haru’s own weak points he stopped caring. He didn’t want to hold back in making Haru feel good, so there was no reason for him to force Haru to either.

Haru softly stroked his stomach, moving his hand lower and lower until it reached the waistband of his underwear. He slipped a finger underneath for a moment before pulling away.

“Haru?”

Haru had stopped everything to reach for the nightstand.

“Getting lube.”

Rin heard the sound of a drawer opening and closing before Haru returned, bottle in hand.

“Off.” He gave Rin’s underwear a quick tug.

“Watch it! So impatient.”

Rin stripped, adding his underwear to the pile of clothes on the floor.

Haru pumped a small amount of lube into his hand before putting the bottle aside. His eyes locked on to Rin’s, evaluating him.

Suddenly Rin was overloaded with the sensation of Haru’s hand, no-so-very-carefully coating his dick with lube.

He began to stroke him, slowly at first, before finding a rhythm. He paid attention to Rin’s reactions, the hitch of his breath, the way his fingers grasped the sheets, expertly adjusting his speed and movements. Haru had always been good with his hands.

“Faster. Ah—! Haru, Haru.”

He knew how to keep Rin at the edge, how to deny him a quick release. It was maddening.

Rin’s breathing became ragged. Small gasps were torn from him when Haru momentarily sped up, testing how far he could push Rin. A rougher stroke left him writhing, grabbing at anything he could find. _He was so close._

“Haru, please.” He was begging. He needed Haru to stroke him faster, to stop cruelly slowing down. Instead, Haru used his other hand to cup his balls.

Rin cried out, cursing Haru’s gentle touch. It felt so good, but it wasn’t what he wanted, what he needed.

Haru finally relented, stroking him faster and faster until—

“Haru, I’m going to—“

He shuddered, his toes curling up as he came. Haru continued to stroke him, not stopping until Rin was completely spent.

He tried to catch his breath, too out of it to do much else. His heart was pounding; his limbs felt heavy and light all at once. He barely registered Haru using a tissue to clean him off.

“Thanks.”

Haru lay down beside him and nuzzled against him, waiting. Rin closed his eyes.

When he felt the strength return to his body he rolled over to his side and kissed Haru. He pulled his underwear down as far as he could, letting Haru do the rest.

Their legs tangled together. Haru was so hard, Rin knew he could push him over the edge like this, his thigh rubbing against his dick, but he wanted to do something else.

“Haru?”

“Hmmm?”

“Grab the lube bottle.”

Haru reached for the nightstand. Rin heard him knock over what he guessed was the bottle and tissue box. Haru groaned.

“Give me second.”

He untangled himself from Rin. Rin smiled at how cutely he was pouting.

“Here,” he said a few moments later, and tried to hand the bottle to Rin.

“Ah.” Rin waved it away. “I want you to put it on me” — he swept his hand across his thighs — “around here.” He hoped his meaning was clear.

Haru’s pool eyes were back.

“Okay.”

He gave Rin one final kiss before settling between his legs.

Haru brushed his hands up and down Rin’s thighs, his touch light. It reminded him of how he would sometimes absentmindedly stroke Rin's legs after he shaved, enjoying the smooth skin. There was a reverence to his touch; Rin relaxed into it, his eyelids heavy. He shuddered in surprise when he felt the cool, slippery texture of lube.

“I think that should be enough,” Haru said.

He nodded.

While Haru returned the bottle to its spot, he carefully rolled over and positioned himself on all fours. Not being able to see Haru was bothersome, but he had to admit there was something about the position that excited him. He was leaving himself in Haru’s care, trusting him. And, well, he was pretty sure Haru liked the view.

Haru grabbed on to him, his hands settling in the space between his hips and waist. Rin opened his legs for him, closing them when he felt Haru position himself, his dick right under Rin’s groin.

“Make it tighter.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He brought his legs together as much as he could; Haru gasped behind him.

“How about now?”

Haru let out a small grunt of approval.

He began thrusting in and out of the tight space, slow at first, getting hold of his bearings, before picking up speed. Rin added occasional thrusts, more concerned with keeping his legs closed.

Haru’s breathing became labored; he let out small gasps. It was music to Rin’s ears. The sound of the usually calm Haru losing control, coming undone, because of him.

The friction against such a sensitive area combined with the sound of Haru’s gasps made his own pleasure build. But he had no intention of getting off again: his focus was on Haru. He wanted him to feel the same pleasure he had, to lose himself in sensation.

Haru’s thrusts were becoming erratic; his hands gripped Rin tighter. He was reaching his limit. Rin added more pressure, squeezing Haru with all his might before thrusting against him, over and over — Haru let out a small cry and came between Rin’s thighs.

He slumped against Rin’s back when he was done, exhausted. Rin let him stay there for a few moments before trying to push him off. Haru was heavy and Rin wanted to get cleaned up.

Haru let out a weak grumble of protest, but his efforts were ruined when Rin got a look at him. He was satisfied through and through. His hair was wild; his sweat glistened — it reminded Rin of what he looked like after a race. But the rest was different. His scent was musky, his movements languid in a way they never were from swimming.

He gave Rin a lazy kiss before flopping down against a pillow, somehow looking more handsome than ever in his disarray. If Rin were an artist, this would be the image he would paint.

Of course, Haru wasn’t a very cooperative model.

“Clean me up.”

“Wow. No ‘Thanks for the great sex, Rin’ or ‘Rin, you’re so amazing’ first?”

“Thanks for the great sex, Rin. Your thighs are amazing. All that jogging pays off,” he deadpanned. “Now will you clean me up?”

“Hmmm… still missing something.”

“Will you clean me up… please?”

“There it is. Was that so hard?”

Rin grabbed the tissue box and quickly wiped his own legs off. When he was done, he handed the box to Haru.

“My answer is ‘no’ though. Do it yourself. I’m going to take a shower.”

Haru threw a pillow at him.

“You can join me if you’d like.”

He seemed to consider it. “Carry me.”

“Stop being so lazy.” Rin threw the pillow back at him.

“Hmmph.”

 

 

Rin shoved his toothbrush back in its holder and yawned. His internal clock had woken him up at his usual time, not caring that it was his day off and that he had barely fallen asleep to begin with thanks to a poorly planned late night shower.

It was Haru’s fault. He made everything difficult.

He wanted to make out instead of washing Rin’s back, hogged the water (“Would you fucking move before this shampoo dries in my hair!” “Don’t want to.”), and tended to be either distractingly sexy (water was a good look on him) or distractingly cute (with his new dolphin bath sponge). It was well past midnight by the time Rin felt adequately clean, and later still when he finally managed to coax Haru out of his favorite element.

Rin made his way to the living room. He didn’t want to wake up Haru. He’d find something quiet to do, maybe read the swimming magazine he imported. There was an article on a retired butterfly swimmer he admired; he’d been meaning to check it out.

He reached for it and stopped. From the corner of his eye he spotted the scrapbook Haru made, still on the coffee table. He hesitated — was it okay for him to flip through it without Haru? Maybe. Probably. At least he wouldn’t freak him out again if he became an emotional mess.

He combed through each page, taking in every detail. Doodles were sprinkled throughout the scrapbook: Sakura petals, a cartoon shark, Rin’s earbuds, a tiny steak on a plate. There were some watercolor pieces, but Haru mostly used colored pencils. Rin suspected they were faster — no set up, and no having to wait for the piece to dry — which helped Haru keep the project secret from Rin.

While they slept in the same bedroom, it wasn’t technically “their” room, it was Rin’s. Haru had his own bedroom; he just never slept in it. He must have been putting the scrapbook together for weeks — if not months — while in his room, banking on Rin giving him privacy, which he always did, knowing Haru wanting to be alone wasn’t a slight against him. Being around people all day made him antsy. He needed solitude to recharge.

Rin reached the last page. There was a photograph of them standing on a Caribbean beach, Haru smiling while Rin kissed his cheek.

That had been a fun vacation. Haru was fascinated by the flamingos that made their home on the island. Rin found the way he watched them, engrossed by how they played in the water, endearing. Haru’s souvenirs ended up covered in the pink birds; he somehow managed to even find a flamingo patterned tie for Makoto to “wear at work” (it had taken everything in him not to laugh when he pictured Makoto wearing the flamboyant tie to school, sternly lecturing troublemaking middle schoolers as it dangled there in all its pink glory).

Rin’s eyes moved down the page. Underneath the photograph was a small message from Haru. The only words in the scrapbook.

_Rin_ ,  
_I wasn’t sure what to get you. Nothing I saw in stores felt right. If we had the time I would have liked to take you somewhere, as a thanks for all the places you’ve dragged me. Eventually. When our lives aren’t so busy._  
_I love you._  
_I love looking at you, I love kissing you, I love touching you… but most of all, I love being with you and seeing new sights every day._  
_Happy Anniversary._

 

 

It was almost noon when Haru poked his head into the living room.

“Morning.”

His hair was sticking up every which way. An image of a porcupine appeared in Rin’s mind; he tried not to snicker.

“Good morning. What do you want for breakfast? Or I guess lunch…”

“Hmmm… I’ll have my leftovers. Can you put rice in the cooker? I’m going to wash my face and put on clothes.” He had been shamelessly flashing Rin (having elected to wear the Iwatobi-chan robe and only the Iwatobi-chan robe to bed) as he spoke.

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

He turned to leave.

“Haru?”

“Yes?”

Rin gestured at the scrapbook. “I love you too.”

A tiny blush appeared on Haru’s cheeks.

“What’s this? You don’t want me to put clothes on? You could just say so.”

“Idiot.”

Rin didn’t know it, but he was wearing the expression he hadn’t recognized on himself, the one he sometimes caught on Haru.

It was an expression of unabashed love.


End file.
